Analysis: Letters of Abigail Adams to John Adams

Date: April 19, 1764; August 19, 1774; March 31, 1776; May 7 & 9, 1776

Author: Adams, Abigail

Genre: letter

Summary Overview

This collection of letters from Abigail Adams to her husband, John Adams, was sent between 1764, the year of their marriage, and May 1776, in the months leading to independence. Her words, at times loving, demonstrative, and repulsed, are conveyed with the honest integrity she shared with her husband during their months, and later years, apart. What is significant about this collection is her forthrightness on a number of issues, from the ideals of frugality during the American Revolution to impositions on women. She also very clearly reveals her knowledge and understanding of the issues surrounding government—making her a true confidante to a man so positioned as John Adams. Located as she was in Braintree (now Quincy, Massachusetts), her view from home was a window to momentous events, such as the Battle of Bunker Hill, as they occurred, preserving a firsthand glimpse of America in its early days.

Document Analysis

It is remarkable to consider the wealth of information provided within the letters of Abigail Adams—from household worries and joys to her eyewitness accounts of historical events as they occurred. It is inconceivable to consider it was her wish to her correspondents that her letters be destroyed—she frequently requested they be burned; luckily, they were lovingly preserved. When approaching Adams’s letters, the intended audience and purpose must be kept in mind. They were written for her husband, John Adams, to keep him informed of private matters as well as local political events and happenings. Though these are the primary aims of her letters—other than for the simplest reason of keeping in touch with her husband during his prolonged absences—insight into her own political leanings and evidence of her level of education also come through. Some of her statements have been cited erroneously by feminists as proof of her being an early suffragette (a label consistently discounted by recent historians), while she also establishes herself as making sacrifices for the war effort. These four letters, a mere fraction of those saved, nonetheless display a woman not to be trifled with, one who sought to keep herself as informed as possible on her husband’s doings in Philadelphia, while keeping a handle on all her responsibilities at home. Much like her husband, Adams herself was a stalwart Patriot.

Examining these four letters against one another, there is a definite progression in the topics Abigail discusses, especially when the dates are reviewed within their historical context. The first letter, dated April 19, 1764—a date now most famously associated with the Battles of Lexington and Concord eleven years later—was penned two weeks after the passage of the Revenue Act of 1764, more commonly known as the Sugar Act. The Sugar Act was one of the first attempts by the British to extract money from the American colonies in an effort to recover the costs of the French and Indian War. As the name implies, the taxation was placed upon imported molasses, which was then used in sugar production. Unlike later missives, this letter does not imply anything of recent events. Rather, she playfully teases him, asking that he be as open with her as possible, even him to confront her with any idiosyncrasies she may possess. The following letter, dated nearly ten and a half years later, displays much angst. John Adams has left their Braintree farm to attend the First Continental Congress in Philadelphia, leaving her with four children, ranging from two to nine years old. Adams is very much aware of the risks and dangers involved with the actions of the congress—her husband, by taking part, was, in fact, committing treason; she also shows concern about possible future actions of the British. She muses, “Did ever any kingdom or state/ regain its liberty, when once it was invaded, with out bloodshed?” She then relates ancient history to the present situation, as a reminder of when to tread carefully. John Adams and the other members of the congress needed to choose their courses of action judiciously, otherwise the American colonies might wind up like Sparta, who “from an excessive love of peace, they neglected the means of making it sure and lasting.”

Before closing her letter, Adams casually mentions having gone through Charles Rollin’s book on ancient history and has involved their son John Quincy Adams in it. She again displays her newly acquired knowledge from the book by expressing her wish that September, the start of the congress, will always be foreboding to the British, “as the Ides of March were to Caesar.” Adams’s reference to the Roman general Julius Caesar, who, having set himself up as sole ruler of Rome, was stabbed to death on the fifteenth (ides) of March by those in favor of the Roman Republic, is most fitting given the republicanism her husband and other Revolutionary leaders were advocating.

Adams’s next letter in this examination is undoubtedly her most famous—both for her words and for the way in which historians and feminists have subsequently interpreted them. That spring of 1776, only months before the signing of the Declaration of Independence, was one of relief to those within and around Boston. Just two weeks prior to her letter, on March 17, 1776, known now as Evacuation Day, the British left the city down Orange Street (tellingly, present-day Washington Street). In the full version of her letter, she describes how she feels, “very differently at the approach of spring,” than previously, and that “the Sun looks brighter, the Birds sing more melodiously, and Nature puts on a more chearfull countenance.” Living as close to Boston as she did, Adams felt the war’s constant presence—in June of the previous year, she had watched the Battle of Bunker Hill from Penn’s Hill in Braintree; the sound of cannons firing was close enough to cause her distress. The evacuation of the British soldiers no doubt left Adams a measure of peace for the safety of her children. After sharing her calm over the state of affairs in Boston, Adams launches into a missive for those of her sex. She is well aware of the necessity of composing a “new code of laws” and memorably asks her husband to “remember the ladies.” Given the audience and private nature of their letters, she could not have imagined the later implications of her statements.

When reading and interpreting primary source documents, such as these letters by Abigail Adams, it is all too easy to approach them with a twenty-first century perspective. However, attempting to analyze a historical document without considering the temporal perspective leads to an irrelevant infusion of modern prejudices and assumptions, resulting in the loss of the original understandings of the topic and the author—and such has happened in relation to Adams’s request. Instead of reading her words within her contextual background, historians and feminists have attributed her meaning as relating to women’s suffrage, an aim Adams nowhere implies. While the temptation to extrapolate such a meaning may be there—her husband valiantly striving for freedom from Britain and Adams doing the same for women—there is nothing in her statement that suggests such political autonomy for the female sex.

Adams’s words, when taken together, show her deep understanding of the legal rights of women under the yoke of their husbands; her husband, working in the law profession both before and during the early years of the war, would have fully understood what she meant. She implores, “Do not put such unlimited power into the hands of the husbands. Remember, all men would be tyrants if they could.” Eighteenth-century married women were completely within the legal control of their husbands: They could not hold property, and everything they possessed fell under their husband’s ownership upon marriage. Although it is left to conjecture whether she knew firsthand from friends or neighbors the personal tyranny to which they were subjected by their husbands, she was informed nonetheless of the potentially disastrous legal power that held married women of her time in check. Here, she reminds her husband how not all men behave kindly toward their wives, and there are those who would take full advantage of their position.

The final letter under examination, dated May 7 and 9, 1776, roughly six weeks since the previous, is a further missive on the occurrences surrounding her and her husband in Philadelphia. Adams is very concerned with the state of things—safety of persons and property—in Boston, and she issues a not-so-subtle appeal that the congress seek to remedy them. She writes: “The eyes of our rulers have been closed. . . . Whilst the building is in flames, they tremble at the expense of water to quench it. In short, two months have elapsed since the evacuation . . . and very little has been done in that time to secure it, or the harbor, from future invasion.” She then asserts that those around her are willing to accept the new government and are eager for the permanence only it can ensure. If they do not address this issue, she fears that other nations will look down on American lawmakers, which would make it hard for the congress to safeguard the foreign assistance it still wanted.

Before closing her letter, along with promises of care for their children, Adams confronts her husband on his response letter, dated April 17, 1776. He responds by saying that he can only laugh at her new code of laws. He then goes on to relate how the congress has heard how the American rebellion has led to the uprisings of blacks and American Indians—thereby casting women alongside others who were not considered worthy of being citizens. He attempts to reassure her that though men possess such power, it does not mean that they will utilize it and even tries to stress that he and other members of the congress are masters in name only. Adams, however, was not amused: “Whilst you are proclaiming peace and good-will to men, emancipating all nations, you insist upon retaining an absolute power over wives . . . remember, that arbitrary power is like most other things which are very hard, very liable to be broken.”

A following letter from him, though, displays an attempt to heal the breach. In the letter dated, May 22, 1776, he writes that her feelings about the duties they owe to their country are exemplary and that he is blessed to have her as his wife. In another, dated May 27, he does address her confrontation, albeit briefly, and without any indication that the matter will be dealt with. Although Abigail’s desire to have those in her sisterhood given further protection and respect within the law, she certainly held both within her marriage with John Adams.

Although the four letters examined within this analysis represent a small portion of those preserved overall, they nonetheless display the forthright honesty and integrity of Abigail Adams. In writing letters to her husband during his absences, she felt comfortable in completely expressing herself; she felt no need to dress up her emotions or to cloak them to disguise their meaning. While not a suffragette, itself a term that did not exist during her lifetime, and not pursuing political enfranchisement, Adams did seek for her husband and other members of the congress to develop a legal situation more accommodating for women under the solitary power of their husbands. Just as she knew that her husband and other men like him would not take full advantage of their legal authority, she was also aware that there were men who would. Her actions, performed in so private a matter, display her patriotism passionately—she spoke for those who could not and endeavored to secure them future legal stability.

Bibliography

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Withey, Lynne. Dearest Friend: A Life of Abigail Adams. New York: Simon, 2002. Print.